Matched
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Teshima can't sleep the night before their first drop." Teshima is good at planning, and Aoyagi is good at understanding.
1. Certain

Teshima can't sleep the night before their first drop.

He knew this would happen. He spent all day trying to prepare, wore himself out in the morning and eased himself towards sleep in the evening, and by the time he got out of the shower to let his hair drip itself to damp from wet while he brushes out Aoyagi's for him he had thought he might succeed in his attempt at rest. But when he lies down in bed the adrenaline hits him all at once, panic and excitement and anticipation tangled too close to separate, and he can't relax, and he can't stop shaking, and he certainly can't sleep. He manages to lie still for almost an hour, breathing as naturally as he can so he won't interrupt Aoyagi's own rest. But he can hear the other's breathing, slow and calm but still faster than unconsciousness would allow for, and he's not surprised when fingers touch his shoulder.

"I can't sleep," Teshima says aloud, like this isn't patently obvious. "I'm too wound up."

The fingers curl against his collarbone, tug in silent encouragement. Teshima scoots across the bed, pulling away by a few inches so he won't hit Aoyagi with his shoulder when he rolls over onto his back and turns his head to blink up at the other's features. They are cast soft and gentle in the blue-black of the night, half-blurred outlines Teshima can fill in by heart. He lifts a hand, reaches out to idly touch the details lost to the darkness, the curve of a lip, the edge of a cheekbone, the soft shape of an eyebrow.

"I'm not scared," he murmurs, like he's talking to himself. As far as Teshima is concerned, he is. There's no one who knows him as well as Aoyagi does, as evidenced by the incredulous raise of the eyebrow under his fingertips in response to his claim.

Teshima has to laugh. "Yeah, I guess I am a little. But that's not why I can't sleep."

Aoyagi nods, tips in so the line of his body is curving half-over Teshima's shoulder. His mouth presses against the bare skin of Teshima's chest, his breath flutters warm and even like he's blowing the tension off Teshima like so much dust.

"It's just hard to believe." Teshima's not speaking loudly, just enough for the satisfaction of humming vibration in his throat, softly enough that it pulls the shadows in closer, the two of them hiding under a shared blanket from the darkness. "I mean. After all this time."

"Tomorrow," Aoyagi says against his skin, slowly shaping out the word until every syllable feels like a kiss.

"Yeah." Teshima takes a breath, lets it skid out into the air. Aoyagi slides an arm around him. He moves his hand to push his fingers through soft strands of gold hair. "It's just a few hours away."

Aoyagi smiles. Teshima can feel the expression slipping across the other's lips, spreading wider with the unhurried pace of true sincerity, and then his own expression follows suit all at once, a sudden burst of delight hitting him like it's Christmas morning.

"_Tomorrow_," he says, turning in sideways to reach for Aoyagi's mouth, and Aoyagi is tipping his head up for contact without hesitating. Teshima presses his lips to the familiar softness of Aoyagi's mouth, trails his fingers down the line of the blond's spine, and his panic flickers out and away as his blood goes warm with promise.

They're be fine, he's sure of it. They have each other, and that's never steered them wrong before.


	2. Victory

Aoyagi wakes up first the morning of their first drop.

He knew this would happen. He laid awake last night alongside Teshima, listening to the tremble of exhausted adrenaline under the other's breathing, and he knew that once Teshima fell asleep he wouldn't stir until deliberately woken. He's quiet anyway, gentle in easing out of bed and into the shower, so Teshima is woken by the splash of water on tile and is just stirring awake when Aoyagi comes back into the other room toweling his hair dry. Teshima blinks at him, smiles with the first pleasure of the morning, and Aoyagi smiles back, comes over to sit at the edge of the bed so Teshima can work the knots out of his still-wet hair. They don't speak while they get dressed, move around each other without need for verbal coordination. Teshima is unusually quiet, this morning, and closer even than usual, touching at Aoyagi's skin whenever they're in range.

Aoyagi doesn't comment. He just brushes Teshima's wrist in return, lets the contact speak for him. It's easier to speak with touches than with words, anyway.

Aoyagi opens the door of the room as they leave, Teshima the one to pull it shut. They both reach for the other's hand as they move down the hallway, reassurance easy to find when it's so familiar. Aoyagi can just see the line of Teshima's features in his peripheral vision, the straight of his nose and the quirk of his mouth so clear in his memory he only needs the sideways glance to outline in the image in his head. He presses his thumb in against the other's knuckles, feels the calluses of training and the ridges of old scars under his fingers, digs his fingers in to brace himself in this as reality.

_I'm not scared_, Aoyagi thinks, taps at Teshima's wrist with a thumb like he's forming the syllables with fingers instead of with lips. _Not with you_.

Teshima tips his head, glances at Aoyagi. When Aoyagi looks over at him he's grinning, his smirk radiant and sparkling like stars at night.

"I'm not nervous," he says aloud, clear like he's speaking for an audience instead of just for Aoyagi. "We're going to kick ass."

Aoyagi squeezes tight on Teshima's fingers, flashes him a smile, and then they're there, stepping out into the loading space that has only ever been a dream until now. The Jaegers are always bigger than he expects, breathtaking every time, and they both stop as one, staring up at the gold-and-black shape rising high above them.

"Wow," Teshima says.

"Yeah," Aoyagi says. Their Jaeger is perfect, pristine and shining as it catches the light; Aoyagi has to blink stars from his eyes, push away a brief blindness, and Teshima catches a breath at his side as if he's choking back tears. Aoyagi blinks and his cheeks are wet, his mouth shaping around a smile as easily as his heartbeat shapes itself around the joy in his veins, as easily as his fingers shape themselves around Teshima's.

Aoyagi doesn't need to wait for the mechanical assistance of the Drift to taste Teshima's feelings on his tongue. He knows them like he knows his own heartbeat, like he knows the pattern of Teshima's skin, knows them the way he knows the shape of his sister's face and knows the way Teshima's mother smiles, their memories slipping together into a singularity the way their lives have.

They'll win, this mission and every other, Aoyagi knows without analysis. They have each other, and that's all they've ever really needed.


End file.
